


Fictober 2019, Oct. 2nd, “Just Follow Me, I Know the Area.”

by Morpheus626



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morpheus626/pseuds/Morpheus626
Summary: Another Fictober 2019 fic, prompt and the day involved are the title!A quick synopsis: drinking at the Star Inn and heading home at night shouldn’t be a problem. A nice night of relaxing, after working on the album more. Until you introduce a lot of beer, talking about scary folklore, and a very dark night and walk back to Ridge Farm.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Fictober 2019, Oct. 2nd, “Just Follow Me, I Know the Area.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fic I ever wrote for Queen, where I was able to note this: this is a fictional version of the guys, based off of what we know of the real, wonderful, incredibly talented people. Absolutely no disrespect to them is meant, this is all just in good fun. This note goes for all my fics for Queen!

“It’s forty minutes on foot, if that. We can make it. We have no choice, the cabs aren’t running anymore.” 

Roger shook his head. “We’ll wait it out here.” 

“They are closing; we have to leave,” Brian continued. “Just because you scared yourself with an old wives’ tale…” 

“I am not scared, but I can see you are!” Roger tossed back as Brian continued to drag him out of the pub, the owners happily waving good-bye to them as they went. 

“I think I’m already hung over. I’m still drunk, how can I already be hung over? I’m blaming that on you.” 

“That’s not fair,” Roger protested. 

“Children! Unless you’d like to help me carry the baby home, I suggest we get moving. He’s heavier than he looks,” Freddie was stood outside, John, drunk as could be, draped around him, barely standing. 

“I’ve been trying to get the other baby-” 

“Hey!” Roger’s cry echoed down the empty street.

“-out of the pub and back home, so don’t get on me,” Brian continued. 

“Did you hear something?” John giggled. “Sounded like a dog…” 

“John, don’t start, or we’ll never get him back to the farm,” Brian scolded, and turned back to Roger. “Look. You’re drunk, we’re all tired, and we shouldn’t have been talking about that anyway. The Black Shuck isn’t real, and if it were, it wouldn’t be here, probably. Though it could be migratory, I suppose. Being a paranormal creature and all, who knows what habits it might have. Actually-” 

“Brian, please,” Freddie shifted to keep John from falling to the ground face first. “That isn’t helping, and you know it.” 

“Well, I’m curious now. So, let’s say-” 

“Let’s not,” Freddie interrupted again. “Roger, come here, help me with John.” 

“S’alright. I’ll stay by Brian,” Roger replied. “Just to show him that I am not scared, not even a bit. Because who would be…right?” 

“You are holding my hand,” Brian said quietly. 

“We’re friends, aren’t we? I can’t just…hold your hand, if I feel like? Well then, my apologies, let me never touch you again.” 

“I’m so tired,” Brian sighed.

“Perfect, onwards we go then! Please use your feet, John, I cannot fully carry you,” Freddie said as he led the charge down the road. 

It was pitch black and near impossible to tell if they were still on the road until they’d accidentally tumble into the ditch, but Brian, now in the lead while Freddie begged John to stay upright, kept a good pace. 

Until the howl. 

“Oh Christ,” Roger was attached to Brian’s hip, holding onto him like a skinny life vest in a pool of dark water. 

“You do know there’s a dog at the farm, right? We’ve met her, and like other dogs, she may sometimes howl,” Brian said, continuing onward even with Roger stuck to him like so much terrified glue. 

“I know what she sounds like, and it is not that. That is not a normal dog,” Roger whispered fiercely. “And keep your voice down!” 

“Yes, because surely the mythical dog understands English,” Freddie sighed. “Roger, darling, please…” 

“No! They say you can’t hear it coming, so then it’s just…there. And it can keep up with anything, anyone. We’re fucked,” Roger whimpered. 

John grinned, and howled loud as he could, the sound echoing in the empty countryside. 

Roger nearly tripped, leaving Brian to catch him, grumbling. “John! Enough! I’ll have to carry him next!” 

“I want to pet it,” John laughed. “I bet it’s soft….” 

“No one is petting the mythical death dog! No one is howling to attract it, just…look, tell you what. If it comes at us, Roger, I’ll take it down, hm? I boxed in school, surely I can take on a dog,” Freddie said, struggling to keep John from flopping to the ground, as he was far more interested in watching the countryside than walking. 

“It’s not just a dog, Freddie. Weren’t you listening?” 

“Unfortunately,” Freddie sighed. “But you need to relax. We’ll be there sooner if you do, and if you help me hold up John.” 

“No, I’m alright here,” Roger replied, still clinging to Brian. 

“I wasn’t really asking, but…fine. Brian, can you manage with him like that?” 

Brian merely scoffed, wrapping an arm around Roger so that he might better keep up with him. 

“Lovely. Lovely moods all around. What a wonderful end to the night,” Freddie grumbled. “I’m sleeping as long as I want when we get there, I hope you know. No waking me till I’m good and ready to be awake. I need time to recover from this.” 

“I see a dog,” John said, pointing out to one of the tree lines in the distance. “You see him? Hello! I bet he’s lost, we can see if they know him at the farm! Come here!” 

Before anyone could react, John had found his feet enough to run away from Freddie, charging into the brush in the ditch. 

“I am not wearing the shoes for this, John! Get back here! I…ugh, stay put! I’ll be back,” Freddie started after John, leaving Roger and Brian alone in the road, eyes still slowly adjusting to the dark. 

“They’re dead. Oh god. What’ll we do?” Roger whispered. 

“You need to calm down. I already told you, it probably wouldn’t travel this way anyway. And as for what we’ll do? Finish the fucking album alone, I guess. Put a track on there about death by demon dog, maybe,” Brian said. 

“Stop it, that isn’t funny!” Roger shouted. 

“We should have stopped drinking hours ago, you’re just belligerent now-” 

“Oh, and what are you? Shouting right back at me, in the middle of nowhere, with Freddie and John probably dead, but you’d rather argue with me!” Roger interrupted, letting go of Brian and stepping away from him. “I’m going to find them, and you can just go back alone!” 

“Roger, no. They’ll be back in a moment, and…Roger!” 

But Roger was already in the ditch, tumbling down it as he struggled through the brush. 

“Roger…just follow me, I know the area. Not having you get lost out here alone,” Brian said as he caught up to him in the field. 

“You don’t. You just want to go home, and you’re trying to keep from searching for them,” Roger protested, stumbling further into the field, closer to the tree line. 

“That…okay. I do want to go home, back to the studio. I’m tired, and my head hurts, and I really want this night to be over. But, I’m not going to go do that without the rest of you. So, if you’re insistent on this…then let’s find them, though I’m sure they’re fine. John’s probably just being stubborn and not wanting to move.” 

Suddenly, Freddie emerged from the tree line, arms full of a giggling John. “What are you two doing out here? I said, stay put!” 

“Listen to him, he knows best!” John added. 

“Oh, hush. I just had to detangle him from the brush, his trousers are absolutely destroyed at the bottom, just look. Honestly, John, I’m putting a ban on pub nights for all of us if you’re going to be like this,” Freddie scolded. 

“That’s not fair! We didn’t run into the brush like him!” Roger protested. 

“Oh fucking really? Where the fuck are you right now then, please tell me?” Freddie asked.

“…well,” Roger mumbled softly. “Was looking for you.” 

Freddie sighed. “Okay. Enough, let’s just get going.” 

“Dog,” John said. 

“It wasn’t funny the first time, and it isn’t funny now,” Freddie replied, pulling John towards the road, Brian and Roger trailing behind them. 

“Dog!” John pushed away from him, and seemed suddenly sober as could be, running like his life depended on it towards the road. “Fucking run!” 

“Ha ha, hilarious, John, could you walk the entire time? You asshole,” Freddie grumbled, just as a pair of red eyes emerged from one side of the field, staring them down. 

He was off like a shot, clogs somehow staying on his feet as he went. 

“Jesus Christ,” Brian muttered as he caught sight of the eyes, and started for the road, pulling Roger with him. 

“Oh, so now we run? Now? Oh, cause Roger was right? Ah ha, now we see, should have just listened right away! But no, Roger’s just being a stupid baby, well look at you now!” Roger shouted as he struggled to keep up with Brian, who was putting his long legs to good use. 

“Please, shut the fuck up and just run,” Brian shouted back, hair in his face as he turned his head to look at Roger. 

Whatever it was, was far too close to him. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Brian grumbled as he reached back to pull Roger closer to him, catching him as he fell, forced to essentially carry him until he got his feet back under him. 

Whatever was left of the forty minutes felt like nothing as they ran, panting, the gravel of the road kicking up underneath their feet. 

At the farmhouse, Freddie held open the door to the guest house, ushering them in, eyes on the horizon watching for the source of the red eyes. All he could see were the eyes, and the dust being created as the thing kept on towards them, towards the front door. 

“Get the fuck in!” he nearly pulled Brian and Roger in, slamming the door shut behind them, locking it, and pushing a nearby end table in front of it as well. 

“You think that’s enough?” Roger asked, huddled on the floor with the other two in a jumble of limbs. 

“I suppose I don’t know, Roger, I’ve not had to barricade a home from a potentially ancient evil before, so I’m learning from this situation just as much as you are,” Freddie sighed, peering out one of the windows, then darting back as the red eyes moved right up against the glass, a black snout fogging up the glass with its breath. “What the fuck.” 

“Shit. More stuff. Lock the windows,” Brian started, scrabbling to his feet. “Is there any way it could get in upstairs, or in through the basement?” 

“I’ll check,” Roger darted upstairs. 

“John, can you-” 

“Basement, got it,” John was on his feet and down the other set of stairs in a flash. 

He helped Freddie move a china hutch in front of the door as well in the living area, then went about locking the windows as best the old locks would go. 

“I can’t hear anything out there…but I know it’s out there, still,” Freddie sighed as he dropped to the floor, and Roger and John returned. 

They huddled at the center of the floor together, listening for it, but all there was, was horribly tense silence. 

“…well I’m fucking sobered up now,” John muttered. “Anyone tired?” 

“Not anymore,” Brian replied. “What the hell do we do now?” 

“Wait, I guess. I’m not sleeping while it’s out there,” Freddie said, knees pulled close to himself, back curled as he rested his head against them. 

“…supposed to mean we’ll die within the year,” Roger mumbled. “That’s what the legend says, at least.” 

“No one is dying; we’re going to be fine,” Brian said, moving sit closer to Roger. “We’re going to get old together, no spooky dog can stop that.” 

“I’m stuck with you?” Roger smiled. 

“All of us,” Freddie replied. 

A howl went up outside the house, and they all instinctively scooted closer together, nearly in each other’s laps now. 

They woke up in the morning on the floor, draped near and over each other, with hang overs that hurt nearly as much their legs after all the running. Paw prints and claw marks were found outside the house, in the dirt and against the door of the house. The owners seemed to take no mind of it, merely shrugging at the sight, in an unsettling way.

And pub nights were officially planned activities, going only when it was still somewhat light out, and returning well before the last cab had run. 

Just to be safe. 


End file.
